


Wish I Was (034 Not Enough)

by senoritablack



Series: Big Ass Rickyl Table [6]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:28:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23952319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/senoritablack/pseuds/senoritablack
Summary: Daryl has been having trouble sleeping. Rick helps.
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes
Series: Big Ass Rickyl Table [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/311811
Comments: 6
Kudos: 67





	Wish I Was (034 Not Enough)

The candle light coaxes his eyes closed. If he were to sit back now, he’d fall asleep. He’d do it. _He should_. He’s among family. They all had fought so damn hard to get to where they are. Been through so much. They are alive and safe. But, as sure as he is breathing, deeply and well-earned, he still can’t shake the anxiety. It’s unreal. He opens his eyes.

He _should_ just fall asleep right there, there’s every reason to, but there’s that unlearned part of him that can’t sleep until he knows everyone else is. And safe.

Four walls. Clean water. Food. A community to contribute to? It’s all words until he sees it—until he’s see that they’re safe for longer than a week. Hear’s it from each of them. Then it’ll mean something. Then he’ll be able to close his eyes, lie down to sleep without first watching for foreign shadows at their backs.

But right now, out of habit, he watches his people. Sasha, Rosita, Ford, Eugene and Tara—all sat drinking wine at the kitchen table, mischief in their eyes half hidden behind each of their playing cards. Carol’s in a corner patching up Michonne’s coat, the pair of them sharing an under the breath conversation. Glenn’s head in Maggie’s lap, softly snoring underneath her book. Carl’s swirling Judy over his head, making the kid blow up in fit of giggles.

And then there is Rick.

Rick’s sat on the floor, back to the sofa Daryl’s on, watching them too. Daryl could see his profile from where he’s lied out. He’s got on a smile that is resolutely Rick Grimes, head tilt to the side the way it does when he’s thinking over something.When Carl’s tired her out and retreated behind a comic book, Rick reaches out for a yawning Judith and cradles her against his chest, pressing a small kiss into her hair.

He doesn’t seem to notice or care that Daryl is staring.

So, Daryl, his eyelids drooping, head lulling behind him, continues to watch Rick. He watches Rick because he can’t help to. Rick shaved his beard and Daryl could tell the man isn’t quit used to it yet because he absent-mindedly goes to finger over the clear skin. Daryl was surprised that he’d done it, but the beard which had aged him is gone and hell, if Rick didn’t clean up well. Then Rick’s hands comb through his hair, and it makes Daryl wish he could replace them with his own. Daryl knows what that _really_ means. It means he’s completely gone.

He’s long since accepted that he feels for Rick, but has yet to figure out the weight of it. It’s heavy on his shoulders and when they’re awake it’s easy for Rick to see the physical manifestations. He’s been having trouble sleeping. The gears haven’t stopped turning for days and it’s hard to. The rest of the group doesn’t suspect and he thinks that it’s because he’s a particularly good liar, but of course it’s the one person who he’d rather not divulge his deep and darkest to—Rick—who can see right through him. He’s known somethings up. Finding him when he’s alone, nudging him, holding tight onto his forearm, pleading with his eyes—open and non-threatening.

It’s exhausting trusting someone so much and holding back because you don’t trust yourself. The logical part of his brain, the very small part he doesn’t want to any wind to, tells him that he isn’t alone in this. Whatever this is? He knows that it’s gotta be talked about. They’ve gotta filter through this weird air that lingers between them and chokes him in the night.

He’s so tired of not talking about it. He vaguely wonders if Rick’s tired too.

Daryl doesn’t realize that Rick knows that he is staring, not until Rick lies a hand around his ankle. It’s an awkward sort of touch, but Daryl relaxes into it nonetheless. It’s strangely intimate. Daryl’s eyes are growing heavier. He sees the light swimming before his fluttering eyelids and hears the softening murmurs of his people—feels the soft circles Rick is thumbing into his ankle. He could only hope what Rick means by it, could only wish that there was something more to it. He stops the thoughts before they condemn him.

Daryl opens his eyes and looks down to Rick, really looks at him. He’s got one hand still idly rubbing circles into Daryl’s ankle, and another stroking Judith’s hair where she has fallen asleep in a swaddle in his lap. Carl’s lying on his back next to his Dad, lost in his newest comic book scene. And it’s all so familial. It breaks his heart in ways he can’t describe.

Suddenly, this small moment is too much. Because he doesn’t know what they hell it means and it drives him crazy. The sleepy part of him, the one that would rather die than move from his very comfortable spot, shift from Rick’s tiny but all encompassing touch, says forget about it. It’s just one of their moments, _just what they do_ —and as all their moments do, it will pass. The anxiety that had been temporarily quelled, tickles the back of his neck and threatens to jump out his every limbs, telling him that he’s got to do whatever it takes for it not to.

This weird fucking limbo is not enough.

He’s spent his whole life in want. Never thought twice about what he may have needed, because when it came to necessity, Daryl was resourceful. But to say that he deserved something and the he was going to get it, _that_ he never did. He wanted Rick—as much as the man could spare of himself and he wanted to give himself to Rick, as much as the man would like to take.

He makes up his mind, then.

Daryl lifts his leg slightly and Rick stops his ministrations. To anyone else, Rick’s face might have come across blank. But as Daryl spent ample time studying Rick, cataloguing all of his ticks and every twitch in muscle, any minuscule lip curve, an eyebrow movement, a concaving cheek—Daryl knew what to look for. He knew the look held trepidation.

“Thought you were asleep,” Rick says.

Rick’s hand finally leaves his ankle and Daryl’s livid about it. He can’t do this anymore, he’s so tired.

“Damn near,” Daryl sas low and angry. And before he could think better of himself or over think he adds,“Come up here with me, will ya? With Judy?”

If Rick wants to protest or ask any questions, Daryl doesn’t let him.

“Rick, man.” He says, feeling cut up, “Just. Please?”

With a silent nod, Rick does. He holds Judith close to his chest and slowly slides up and into the space that Daryl’s made for him. Rick doesn’t loosen his eye contact with Daryl the whole time he moves, not even a little when he shuffles back into the sofa, relaxes into it and lies a heavy Judith in his lap.

And then Daryl tries something. He moves closer to them, quickly winding Rick’s arm around him, slotting his body into a position that works until he’s comfortable at Rick’s side. Where his temple lies, warmed against Rick’s heaving chest, he can feel the vibration of a building heartbeat, choppy breathing and then laughter.

“If I’da know this is what it takes for you to sleep.” Rick tries to make a joke. It only makes Daryl’s insides burn with further frustration.

“Think you know better’n that.” Daryl says shortly, but doesn’t move.

Rick tenses but Daryl still doesn’t move. He doesn’t think he’s wrong about this. He can’t be wrong about this. He rubs his nose and forehead into Rick’s neck like a cat purring into a pant leg, and Rick sighs.

“I do. Shit, I do.” Rick says and he’s looking at Daryl, straining his neck to, but Daryl’s not ready to look at him yet.

“I’m serious ‘bout this—bout you.” Daryl whispers.

“Will you look at me?” Rick asks.

Daryl nods no. He doesn’t think he could. Doesn’t know, either way, if he’s ready for the answers even if he’s the one to have asked the damn questions in the first place and—

“Daryl.” Rick commands.

And he does, look up, because he’s never been able to not follow Rick. He figures that might get himself into trouble with Rick later on. Daryl looks at Rick, and then down to Judith, but Rick fingers leaves Judith’s hair reaches out to Daryl, cupping his jaw and stroking the beauty mark above his mouth with a thumb. Daryl can’t imagine what his face is displaying, no more can he deny what Rick’s is. It’s a tenderness he’s never been granted by anyone. A look that seems to say all that he’s always wanted and more, and Rick’s not even told him how he felt yet. Daryl breathes heavily through his nose.

“If you are then I am.” Rick says finally. “No bullshit. Just you and I together, figuring out what that means. Sound right?”

Daryl barley nods in his hand. He wants to kiss Rick, he does. He thinks Rick wants to kiss him, but they don’t. They continue to look over each other, maybe they’re both trying to find the lie in all this honestly, but they just sit there. Sit there until Daryl retreats first, finding home again at Rick’s chest and Rick wraps his arms tighter around him. Daryl breaths in Rick—smells that special mix of the body soap they all share, the forest, and all that is exclusive to Rick.

Daryl’s heart stops pounding and his minds slows from it’s turns, and with one last look at his family, consequences and questions to come be damned, falls asleep faster than he’s had in weeks.

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this years ago, but just got around to re-reading it. Thought, why the hell not.
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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